


Consort

by sifshadowheart



Series: How to Train Your Godling [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Chronicles of Riddick Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, Frey of Asgard Series, Harry is Lady Vaako, M/M, Multi, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-16 01:05:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16075157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sifshadowheart/pseuds/sifshadowheart
Summary: Frey wasn't certain what his father was trying to teach him this time.  If anything.  But finding out that Death isn't working the way it was supposed to in this universe wasn't in the game plan.  Loki and Frey make a bet to discover who can find the cause first leading to consequences neither saw coming.One-Shot  Slash  A/U





	Consort

** Consort **

**A Frey of Asgard One-Shot**

**_By Sif Shadowheart_ **

Disclaimer:  As we all know, Harry Potter is the property of JK Rowling whilst the Riddick series is owned by…someone who is not me.

 _Note: This is a true one-shot and very different from my other HP/Riddick crossover.  But, the idea just_ stuck _with me._

**Breeder**

“Perhaps the breeder would do it.”  A clear, resounding voice spoke out, silencing the grumbles of the men over Riddick’s disrespect and the crunching-clang of their heavy armor shifting.  “If someone just _asked_ him.”

Riddick arched a brow as a slim figure in what sounded like silk and thin leather – rich, noble clothes – strode forward with a smooth gait he was used to seeing on four-legged predators…not two.  This one was already _interesting_.  That the Necros parted before them – he couldn’t pin a gender, they weren’t close enough yet – like one of his shivs through that whispy silk they wore just rattled Riddick’s inner animal that much more.

Especially the scent that came with them…but not _from_ them.

No, it was from the other Necros…all save _one_.

And that one _wasn’t_ their leader, their “Lord Marshall, holy half-dead.”

But rather, the pretty commander who had confronted Riddick and not faltered for a second, even when he shivved one of the LM’s “best men” or this pretty thing in silk and leather spoke up.

“It’s a rare honor.”  They continued.  No, Riddick corrected as the figure drew up, one slim – but strong – hand resting on the pretty commander’s shoulder as _he_ flanked both Riddick and the LM in a single move, leaning into Riddick space with absolutely no fear in either face or scent…and what a scent it was.  “A visit, inside the Necropolis.”

Riddick leaned down as a face that looked pale and beautiful even _with_ his goggles on cast him a glance from under black lashes.

Enough of a glance for Riddick to make out a single – and rare – color.

Bright green.

The fearless beauty had bright green eyes to go with the moon-pale skin and night-black hair.

And for a moment, made Riddick wonder who he would have to kill to keep _this_ prize.

“It’s been a long time since I smelled beautiful.”  Riddick finally spoke in his deep rasp, smirking over at the pretty commander when he gave a wordless snarl and moved to push against the beauty’s staying-hand.

Hmm.

Riddick thinks he has a winner.

Interesting.

**Furyan**

_Furyan_.

The name pounded through Riddick’s head even as Toombs’ merc crew snatched him up and debated sending him to Crematoria – just as Riddick planned from the moment the star-jumper landed as he bolted from the Necropolis, leaving behind a beauty of a creature with bright green eyes he’d heard the pretty commander, Vaako, call both _husband_ and Frey in a hissed conversation after Frey had led Riddick into the chamber of the Quasi-deads.

Frey Vaako was a beautiful predator from the tips of his black hair that fell in complex braided waves to the top of his perfectly sculpted ass to the toes barely protected from debris by the thin leather sandals wrapped around them.

More – everyone around him _knew_ it.

They left an unconscious space between him and them, all but his _husband_ the pretty Commander Vaako with his equally-black braided mohawk and dark eyes and the creepily corpse-pale Lord Marshal, as if even the supposedly _fearless_ Necros had found something from their nightmares in the waking world walking among them.

Well.

Something _other_ than Riddick he’d think given how _quick_ on the button their Lord Marshal had been to order his death at the revelation of Riddick’s origins.

Origins even Riddick hadn’t known of as Aereon had made clear.

Though he’d bet the old broad was already working to make herself _useful_ to the fuckers that hours before she’d been all-but- _begging_ Riddick to ghost.

Anything to save their own necks, that was the creed among the living.

Whether it was true of the Necros was something yet to be discovered though Riddick could admit he liked their main policy.

 _You keep what you kill_ , now _that_ was a philosophy Riddick could get behind.

Even if he hoped he didn’t have to kill that pretty Commander Vaako to get his hands on his husband.

If he lucked out, the Necros might prove to be a polyamorous society.

But then, as proven by Riddick currently being strapped in while his temporary captors – more like unwitting taxi drivers – sank into cryo sleep for the trip to Crematoria, Riddick had never been that lucky.

And still, even as he sank into the half-aware meditation state that was cryo for him, the sound of _Furyan_ still rang through his head.

**Aberration**

Frey knew he was a freak among the Necromongers.

An aberration.

The exception to the perfection of the Necromonger conversions that otherwise proceeded without issue or error.

Except, of course, for him.

It hadn’t been _his_ idea to come to this fucked-up universe and play.

No, that was _all_ on his Far.

And where had it landed him?  In the belly of the Necromonger war machine trying to puzzle out the whys and hows of their strange faith that jerked and poked and prodded at his powers and instincts.  Frey wasn’t a god, not yet, but given his heritage and the meddling that had gone into making him, he knew better than most when something was _wrong_ in the area of Death, he knew it as well as the color of his eyes in the mirror.  And what the Necros were up to under the guidance of their Lord Marshal was _wrong_ to the fabric of their universe.

Going undercover among them had only made _sense_ as his Far kept traveling on his own to try and ferret out the answer through other means, though neither of them were _bound_ to fix what was wrong.

It still bothered them nonetheless.

Hence: undercover.

Though, he’d have to admit, there were worse ways to pass a few years than by playing the elegant and dangerous husband of a Necromonger Commander, even if his unaltered state made the Purifiers nervous and the rest of the Necromonger Elite infuriated that he kept his high ranking – ranking he’d gained in true Necro fashion by killing the last chatelaine of the Necropolis – despite it.

He’d never expected Vaako.

To be honest however…he’d never really _expected_ any of his lovers over the years.

From the first moment Frey had laid eyes on the gorgeous creature in the military’s training pits after ascending to Zhylaw’s chatelaine after being picked up with the rest of the converts from yet another conquest, Zhylaw intrigued and interested in Frey’s inability to undergo _true_ conversion but his seeming devout adherence to the Necro faith regardless, Frey had been a bit smitten with the strong young warrior who even without a word being spoke Frey could tell had a core of solid steel and was just as unyielding.

Much to Frey’s enjoyment and eventual joy, he hadn’t been the only one smitten and Vaako had been one of dozens of suitors after Zhylaw made it clear that while he himself had no prurient interest in his new Chatelaine, Frey was both open to and allowed to accept other offers.

They married in Necromonger fashion less than six months later.

Then, after enough time among the Necros with no real progress being made and facing the chance of having to admit failure whenever his Far popped back up, they set out for conquest on Helion Prime and Frey met a whole new level of complication in the form of one Richard B. Riddick, Furyan, and apparently the only damn thing in the universe that Zhylaw feared.

Another _aberration_.

How very intriguing indeed.

And how fortuitous it was, perhaps a sign of Frey’s luck finally turning once more, that it was his own husband that was sent to lens Riddick out and cleanse him with the _assistance_ of one of the only remaining Furyan converts in the Lord Marshal’s own Purifier.

When his husband returned with a young _woman_ Frey would know anywhere, anytime, in any guise no matter _what_ Loki was calling themselves at the moment, it was all he could do to keep from rolling his eyes in exasperation.

His Far _did_ so love the long game.

Leave it to the sometimes-irritating creature to have discovered and banked on Riddick years ahead of his son trapped in deep cover among the Necros.

Both of them knew, no matter what Vaako reported, that Riddick wasn’t dead.

Tracking spells don’t lie after all.

All that remained, was to time what came next with the utmost precision.

**Flawless**

It was nothing less than convenient that the Necromongers had no _real_ power beside the perverted soul-magic of their Lord Marshal and the semi-telepathic Quasi-dead else everyone watching as Frey’s husband was made Zhylaw’s First Among Commanders would have seen an interesting teté-a-teté occurring on the high balcony overseeing all of the Throne Room.

Specifically, they would have noted that despite the hooded figure of “Kira”, the convert who returned from the prison planet of Crematoria with Vaako, and the elegantly-attired Frey Vaako watching with the utmost serenity from his high perch as his husband accepted the sign of his new office from Zhylaw, there were a pair of figures standing and watching all from the shadows of the balcony and that the other figures were little more than convincing illusions.

Loki and his – her at the moment – son had reunited.

Just in time it seemed, as the hissing kiss of steel blades being dragged against each other rang through their highly-tuned sense of hearing and the doors to the Throne room from the Quasi-dead chamber burst open and revealed none other than Riddick himself.

“I _do_ like him.”  Loki mused as he watched Riddick confront Zhylaw and his own illusion-clone play along, saying all the right things guaranteed to simultaneously please Zhylaw and infuriate Riddick as they were joined by Frey’s husband, Vaako being the one being in the entire Necropolis who had any idea of the truth of his spouse.  “Even if he _does_ have eyes for a married man instead of an available female.”

Frey rolled his eyes over his father’s ego getting tweaked.

“You played an orphan child to prey on his protective instincts.”  He pointed out with only a hint of exasperation as they kept careful watch over the fight between Riddick and Zhylaw.  The timing of this had to be just _so_.  “It’s only your own fault if he sees you as a younger sister instead of a potential romantic partner instead, Far.”

“I can’t help but agree.”  Siberious, Frey’s husband of a handful of years, noted drily.  “Even if the married man he’s been eyeing up at every opportunity is _my_ married man.”

“Don’t worry, darling.”  Frey pressed one elegant hand to his muscled husband’s armored chest as Siberious wrapped a gauntleted hand around his trim waist, Frey going with a rather more dainty and lithe appearance in this guise than his natural state that would have him taller and broader than his husband or indeed most of the Necromonger elite warriors.  “I won’t let him kill you to keep me.”

“I hope so.”  Siberious smirked, stealing a swift kiss before snagging an axe from the shadows as Loki summoned her spear to go play their parts in this tableau their husband and child was directing.  “Since it looks like there’s more than enough Riddick to go around, my wicked one.”

**Consort**

Riddick turned, chest heaving with his adrenaline-laced breaths as the Lord Marshal of the Necromongers fell in a heap at his feet, Riddick’s dagger buried in his skull after a combined effort of Riddick, Kira, and none other than the pretty Commander Vaako himself, expecting to find a dying Kira bleeding out after being slammed into a spiked column only to find instead that she was standing strong and tall beside the green-eyed beauty that had been haunting his thoughts since Helion’s council chamber.

A green-eyed beauty that cast a cool glance over Riddick’s head that took in all of the Necro Elite before a flicker of his eyes from Riddick to the empty throne sent a single thought pounding through his head: _You Keep What You Kill._

And Riddick, convict, murderer, Furyan, had just killed the Lord Marshal of the Necromongers.

He’d also, apparently, underestimated the power of that dangerous green-eyed beauty given that all it had taken was that one glance and as Riddick turned to face the gathered Necros, they fell to their knees before him, ending after a long – and charged – stare between Vaako and who Riddick could only guess without turning his head to confirm, was Vaako’s Frey before the First Among knelt in turn as Kira and Frey each took one of Riddick’s arms in soft hands and steered him into Zhylaw’s throne then knelt at his feet for a long, tense moment before Frey stood once more and came up to stand on Riddick’s left with Kira on his, Riddick’s, right.

“Hail, Lord Marshal Riddick!”  Frey called out, half command and half reminder.

“Hail!”  The rest echoed in his wake.

Another flicker of a glance between the Vaakos had Commander Vaako rising easily to his feet and standing at the foot of the dais with his triple-bladed axe in hand, easily taking command over all the rest as Riddick tried to get a handle on this latest bit of fuckery.

_Necros, so fucking strange._

“Ascension protocol is delayed until Lord Zhylaw’s funeral rites and Lord Riddick’s coronation.”  Vaako commanded.  “Dismissed.”

Riddick would be impressed with the speed at which the Necros vacated the throne room if it wasn’t so damn confusing.

Though he supposed that until he commanded otherwise, Vaako _was_ the First Among Commanders for the Necros, even if he didn’t quite _get_ what position the Commander’s husband played in the fuckery that was life as a Necro.

He got that Frey was important.

That had been clear from the first.

He just wasn’t sure _how_ important even with him standing at Riddick’s side seeming to convince those of the Necro crowd that didn’t seem _thrilled_ with his husband to follow along anyway.

A fact he needed to know, _now_.

“Who are you to them, beautiful?”  He asked in his rumbling bass, casting silvered eyes over the silk-draped lean form, Frey coming around to face him once the throne room had been cleared, Vaako coming to stand just behind him.

Interesting.

When facing a known killer, a dangerous _animal_ , Vaako didn’t see the need to protect his husband.

Well now.

That just upped Riddick’s suspicions regarding which of them was the more dangerous creature if how the Necros acted around each of them wasn’t enough to go on in the first place.

“It’s who I currently am to you unless you choose to replace me that is the key.”  Frey answered as Vaako’s hands settled on his hips from behind and his husband took up position guarding his back.  “I’ve served as Zhylaw’s Chatelaine for the last six years – give or take – which much like anything _else_ that was Zhylaw’s passes to you now.”

“Chatelaine.”  Riddick mused, unashamed as always by his cobbled together education courtesy of the penal system.  “Now there’s a word I don’t know.  Want to break it down for me?”

“He’s the head of the Lord Marshal’s household.”  Siberious explained.  “The civilian counterpart to my position as the head of the Necromonger Armies as the First Among Commanders.”

“Traditionally.”  Kira-Loki added.  Mainly just to be a shit judging by the smirk.  “It is a position held by the spouse of the Lord Marshal, though Zhylaw never wed.”

Riddick turned his head and arched a brow at Kira at _that_.

They hadn’t been separated _that_ long.

Talk about your hidden depths.

“Now, _why_ ,” Riddick asked.  “Would the two highest ranked Necros aside from their Lord Marshal want him dead?”

Frey snorted, rolling his eyes.

“You met the man.”  He snarked at the dangerous – if sexy – creature.  “Few who ever met Zhylaw _didn’t_ want him dead, loyalty-until-underverse-come my _ass_.”

Riddick smirked at that.

Touché.

“And if I said I wanted to add the missing _wedding_ to the position you currently hold, beautiful?”

His eyes glinted under their goggles.

A king – or a warlord in this case – needed a consort.

Someone they could trust to have his back and manage the home-front while they went off to kill shit.

He couldn’t think of one better than the deadly creature that’d been doing the job while avoiding screwing the last Lord Marshal for years.

 _That_ was the sort of cunning he could appreciate.

Especially since it seemed Frey Vaako had a taste for dangerous men.

Matching smirks were sent his way from the Vaakos.

“I think we can manage to come to an agreement to suit _everyone_.”  Siberious announced, pulling Frey back into his armor and showing off the long line of his husband’s body in silk in the process.  “A consort for a consort, perhaps?”

Riddick’s laugh rang through the Necropolis.

It wasn’t as if taking both of the pretties to bed would be a hardship if they came as a package deal.

A consort for a consort, indeed.

 


End file.
